We Are Not Ghosts
by GloriaNewt
Summary: Set in the present day. Patsy reminisces and prepares for a very important event...


**A/N: This is my first attempt at a Call the Midwife fic even though I've been a fan of the series ever since it started! Reviews are always welcome! **

**Saturday 29****th**** March 2014**

Sunlight was streaming in through the bay-fronted window, catching the little particles of dust which were fluttering in its spotlight. A tall, statuesque woman paused to check her reflection within the large mirror and set down a silver-backed hairbrush with a faint nod of approval, finally satisfied with what she saw in front of her.

Over the years, the fiery ginger hair had faded in vibrancy, at first streaked liberally with flecks of grey before fading to its present iron hue. The once long, curled mane of hair was now restrained within a loose shoulder-length crop which perfectly framed her defined jawline. The elderly lady wrinkled her nose slightly as she dabbed powder delicately onto her complexion before gently applying a pale coating of a cherry red lipstick, squinting slightly through the elegant pair of frameless glasses which were placed upon the bridge of her nose. Although now advanced in years, she still worked hard to achieve an air of refined elegance and grace in her attire and appearance.

Her reverie was interrupted by a faint tap on the door.

A faint waft of lily of the valley drifted lazily across the room, still making her heart still skip a beat after all these years.

"Are you ready yet, my lovely? The cab's waiting outside..." An arm gently wrapped around her shoulders in a soft embrace as she smiled gently at the dulcet Welsh tones that whispered in her ear, her sapphire eyes shining with excited expectation.

"Yes, my darling, I'm just about finished—"

"You wouldn't want to keep me waiting any longer now, would you?" Her companion teased, a devilish twinkle evident within her dark fluid eyes as she swept a loose tendril of hair behind Patsy's ear with a bony hand, "I mean, what's five minutes more when you've had just over half a century to be patient?"

"Deels, really!" came the indignant exclamation to her right, although slightly croaky, the plummy tones contained within the retired midwife's accent still remained despite many a year of duty within the East end.

"Shhh, silly! Here, look what I've got for you!" Delia smirked as she revealed her free hand from behind her back, proffering a large bouquet of creamy white chrysanthemums tied delicately with an olive green satin ribbon.

"Can't have my wife-to-be looking shabby now, can I? Mrs Busby-Mount?" her lilting voice shook slightly with emotion at the realisation of the enormity of the event that was about to take place within the next hour.

"Now there's a phrase I never thought I'd hear," her future spouse shined with happiness as she accepted the beautiful bouquet. She opened the top drawer of the ivory dressing table and carefully extracted a small, maroon, velvet lined box and peeped quickly inside to check that all was in order with the precious contents.

"Can't go leaving these behind, can we?" she gently placed the ring box within Delia's handbag and braced against the dressing table as she eased herself slowly to her feet, accompanied by the usual arthritic twinge within her wrists: no doubt the many years of jarring clattering across the cobbled streets of Poplar on a bicycle had eventually taken their toll.

…

Patsy pulled the heavy front door of their Georgian townhouse closed behind her with a solid clunk, taking time to allow herself a reminiscent smile she stooped slightly from her tall height to lock the door, before commencing her usual ritual of touching her lips briefly to the cold metallic surface of the key, thanking the Lord for the second chance that she had been granted, a reprieve from the anguish that had tormented her, two tortuous years where a piece of her heart had ceased to beat, stilled, paralysed, awaiting the return of her lover with ever dwindling optimism.

In the intervening decades, the sands of time had shifted, public opposition had wavered and crumbled, and she was in a place that she had never anticipated within her own lifetime. Accepted. If only she were able to reach back into the past, pat her younger self upon the arm and reassure her that like in the best of fairytales, that it really does come right in the end, no matter what the obstacle, true love will out. No matter how much the pain had stung, tender relief would eventually arrive, bringing with it a new lease of life, contentment and, above all, hope.

"Penny for them?" Deels questioned gently as she placed her hand confidently in Patsy's, finally unflinching and unreserved, without any trace of doubt.

Patsy inhaled a deep breath through her nose and turned to look at her spouse to be, still dazzled by her beauty, even though the dark hair had faded to grey, the shining eyes now framed by a creased pattern of wrinkles, but _that_ smile still remained, the smile where her whole face shone with love and protection, the look that had always been reserved especially for her Patsy.

"Nothing sweetie, just thinking to myself..."

She cleared her throat quickly, expertly pushing away the tight ball of tears that were exerting such ominous tightness within her throat, overcome within her own reflections, still slightly incapable to believe that such a day had finally arrived. Although the finer details of short-term memory were now starting to evade her once razor-sharp brain, she could still remember with crystal-clarity that angst-ridden conversation after Delia had stormed out of the Silver Buckle, the tightness in her chest as she ran after her, the noise of her heeled shoes on the cobbled streets as she frantically tried to catch up, finally catching Delia by the arm. The rawness of the feeling of her fluttering heart dropping like a lead-weight when Delia had said that she wanted to get married had never left her, feeling the crushing tears start to form within her eyes at the mere thought of losing her, only to hear her beloved Deels choked up with tears, expressing her fervent wish of to be able to marry her, to be with her forever. At the time, an impossible dream…

"Come on, my love..." Patsy squeezed her hand gently as the two elderly women set off at a leisurely pace towards the busy road which was swarming with the usual heavy London traffic, stepping slowly but surely towards the awaiting black cab.

"I still owe you that first dance…"


End file.
